


The smell of Roses

by spangelbanger



Series: Sam's Hell [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spangelbanger/pseuds/spangelbanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds out where Sam is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The smell of Roses

Dean had been pacing the bunker for days. He kept his phone in his hand and hit redial every few seconds. He’d been doing it hundred’s of times since he got back to the warehouse to find Sam and Rowena gone. He stopped leaving messages for Sam to call him back a thousand phone calls ago. Not by choice. The too cheerful mechanical voice told him Sam’s voice mail was full. “Goodbye.” He’d heard her say that so many times  since the first that he really wished he could ring her mechanical neck.

The messages he left started with, “Where are you?” Ended with, “Please, just call me back,” with his voice breaking and pleading.  
It was too long. They’d been gone to long. He held out hope that it was just because Lucifer was being stubborn. Held out a fainter hope that Sam had decided Vegas sounded like a good idea.  
He told himself Sam was fine, there just weren’t any working cell towers in hell.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, when he started pacing again. This time he made it to the kitchen, to the low stock of alcohol and back to the table. This time though when he started to sit down he heard a door slam above him.

“Thank god,” he muttered under his breath. Looking up to see Sam both hand’s clenched on the railing looking down at him. “So?” He asked when the silence got too much. When Sam didn’t say anything first, not a word, not an apology for being gone for days, not a “we got it,” or “no luck,”just silence, heavy between them. A thought came unbidden and unwelcome, “ _Sam’s cold.”_ Dean thought maybe he was waiting, for the rant about him not waiting, but the relief that he was there, had momentarily made Dean forget why he was worried to begin with.

“You were suppose to wait for me.” He said, “I told you not to go down there without me.” Now that he was started he felt not relief but anger, Sam never listened. He moved away from the table turning away from his brother long enough to find the beer he’d left there. He was going to tell him all about it, but first, he needed a drink, the one to sooth his frayed nerves.

He turned back, Sam wasn’t at the top of the stairs anymore, he wasn’t on them either. Dean took a step back in surprise to find himself suddenly face to face with his brother. Cold seeped into his bones, he was trapped between the table and the smirk on his brother’s lips. Something almost forgotten stirred in his memory. It wasn’t right. Sam was looking at him with that bored amused smirk, and the world was ending.

“What the hell, are you taking lessons from Cas now?” He asked. Every instinct in him screaming something was seriously wrong. 

“Hello Dean,” the beer was pulled out of his hand before he could resist it. The world swam a little at the edges. That wasn’t possible. Sam wouldn’t let him out. To hell with wouldn’t let him out. Sam couldn’t agree to that. The beer was set on the table next to him, “I heard you need my help.” The voice was lyrical, soft and inviting, and wrong. Wrong for so many reasons.  
“I would have been here sooner,” he shrugged, an exaggerated exasperated look on his face, “but you know how stubborn your brother was.”

“Where’s my brother?” Dean asked, his voice softer than he meant, broken over the word was. What the hell did that mean.

“Sam came to me,” Lucifer reminded him softly, “no one twisted his arm, it was his idea, his choice, you’re the one that needs my help. It just took a little friendly persuasion to get him to see things my way. Sam learns quick, but he’s stubborn.” he smiled, “Don’t worry about Sam, he’s not worried about you.”

“What do you want?” Dean asked, looking for the way out, looking for any way out.

There was a soft amused hum, “I guess I want to help you save the world.” He shrugged, “I did not see that coming.” He tilted up the beer to Dean in a mock salute, “what do you say Dean, want to help me?”

“Do you know how to beat the darkness?”

“Sure.” He said, “I know how, it’s not how I’d choose to spend my time, I’m more of a rape, pillage, and murder kind of guy, but if there’s nothing else on we might as well.”

“What about Sam?” Dean asked.

“Sam’s mine,” He said still smiling, “Sam’s always been mine, you’ve just been keeping him warm for me.”

“Please...”

“No, Sam’s gone,” He said softly, voice dropping to a low angry growl, harsh eyes flashing with unnatural light, “but I can do one hell of an impression if you care to hear it.” He leaned close enough that Dean could feel the frost in his breath, his lips pressed against Dean’s ear, “it’s got the words ‘no,’ and ‘please’ and some screaming, your name might even come up a few times.”

He stepped away and sat on the edge of the table lifted the beer to his too pink lips and swallowed most of it waiting for Dean to say something, Dean’s throat seemed to have sealed itself closed, because no words would come.

With a roll of his shoulder’s the clothes his brother had been wearing rippled and shifted, losing their color, losing form. Becoming something else entirely. “Come on Dean,” he said, pulling a single long stemmed blood colored rose from the air, he pressed it into the pocket on the front of Dean’s shirt, “we’ve got work to do.” he said a Cheshire cat grin on his lips. Then in a rustle of wings he was gone, leaving Dean staring at the place his brother’s body had been, with nothing to prove he was there except for the faint smell of the rose.

  
  



End file.
